She is all that Matters
by Metal-Daddy
Summary: Mr. Bubbles knows that his Little Sister is all that matters, and he will keep it that way at any cost.


Okay, so I wrote this during school. But, I have had the idea rolling around in my head for a while now. I recently read a fanfic by Exilo that motivated me to write this one. It may just be because I love the Big Daddies, or maybe I actually had some skill in this, but I was tearing up when I reread it. I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bioshock.**

As Mr. Bubbles patrolled the moist and empty halls of Rapture, he thought a lot.

_I had a life once. Above the seas—I had a wife. Don't remember her, though. When they attached the suit to me, they made me care about one thing. My Little Sister. But that's all right—my Little Sister is all that matters now. _

The protector was far too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the small man with a red wrench wander by. And even if he did, why should he care? His Little Sister was napping safely in her wall-cubby. Very few things alive would attack him without the promising reward of ADAM.

_I vaguely remember—wait, do I remember? Why did I come down here? What could have possibly convinced me to leave the land? Did they promise it better down here? Was my life so bad that I would come here so easily? But, I wouldn't come down here if I wasn't rich—I don't know anymore…_

Mr. Bubbles noticed a body nearby—a Rosie. Her corpse was covered in ivy, her visor black with dust and age.

_Why did any of us come down here? We were wealthy above—now those who weren't morphed into Little Sisters or Big Daddies by Dr. Tennenbaum are fighting each other with rusty needles and old revolvers over the rotting food that remains. And, of course—the ADAM._

Instinct told him to return to his Little Sister. She would be awake now.

Mr. Bubbles passed into a room, where the door closed after a man slipped in behind him. This time, Mr. Bubbles took notice. As the room automatically closed the door they had come from and began unlocking the next, the guardian studied the wrench-wielding man.

_He looks normal—not wrinkled, torn, or disfigured like the splicers. His eyes—he's had to kill a lot to survive. So confused—I would pity him, but my Little Sister is all that matters._

The man eyed him—a sad, depressing look.

_He pities me? Maybe he __**is **__deranged like the others._

Finally, the door swings aside, the previous one now locked. As the two step out, a TV. flickers on. It advertises the creator of Rapture—Andrew Ryan. The audio doesn't work, but Mr. Bubbles knows what it says all too well.

"Rapture—a utopia away from the surface. Away from petty morality and laws. Away from all the strife and hideousness. Away from human limits."

_I remember now. I remember why… the reason we're here. Ryan promised a sanctuary; instead, I was kidnapped and turned into this. But even if I am a wretch—it's okay. My Little Sister is all that matters. The reason, I suppose, of why I really hate Ryan—he and his men have constantly endangered my Little Sister. But, Atlas isn't any better. If only we could go aboveground—she would be cured and I could protect her forever._

Mr. Bubbles continued, the human disappearing into the shadows. Once the behemoth reached the cubby, he looked around to see if it was safe for his Little Sister.

_The man is gone. I wonder if he can change this place any? Oh well—she wants to play._

Twice, he pounded beneath the hole. Moments later. The dirty, blood-stained, cheerful face of his Little Sister appeared. "Good evening, Mr. Bubbles!" she happily squeaks. His visors flashed green in response. With a hand gentle enough to betray its lethal purpose, he carried her to the floor. As he turned, he saw the same man from before. Mr. Bubbles saw the same sad eyes as before—except this time, they were looking through a grenade launcher's visor. His lenses turned red as the shell exploded upon him. "Mr. Bubbles!" his Little Sister cried.

_Die! No one gets near my Little Sister!_

Before the man could fire another shot, he was knocked back by a mammoth hand. As the man got up, his hand turned blue. A moment before Mr. Bubbles made his second impact, one-thousand volts went coursing through his suit's circuits.

_I must protect her!_

He fought to regain control of his body—but too late. The man drew a shotgun and punched it through one of Mr. Bubble's lenses. Just before the blast, the sad-eyed man whispered, "I'm sorry."

_The pain was secondary only to my momentum. The slug had flung me against a nearby wall. My Little Sister is at my legs, crying. Why does she think I'm dead? He must of shot off my visor's light. When I can't move, I realize it's more than a dead light—I myself am dying. As the man gets near her, I wish more than anything that I could just scream, "RUN!"_

He picks her up.

"No! No, no!" she resists.

_Everything's wrong! This shouldn't be happening! I am her protector!_

And then, the man's hands glow bright. With a feeble smile, he caresses her head. The same light from his hands fill the girl.

_As he lowers her to the ground—completely normal—I realize. He looked upon me with pity because he knew—knew he couldn't save my Little Sister without touching her. And he couldn't get near her if I was alive…_

"Thank you, sir!"

She smiles at him, and runs to sanctuary without a second glance at the dying body of Mr. Bubbles.

_I would be sad she left me so quickly, but it's okay. She is happy and safe now. _

_After all, my Little Sister is all that matters._


End file.
